Family Portrait
by LaVioleBlanche
Summary: Jensen learns a lot about Cougar's past from a photograph. "HOLY- YOUR DAD IS MACHETE!" Slight mentions of a crossover, inspired by the movie Machete. M/M cuddles, slight sadness, swearing, and Jensen being a nutjob.


Okay, this fic was inspired by several things.

#1: I was sitting in the theatre with my friend, watching Machete (if you have not seen it this fic will make... less sense, but should still be readable) and being BLOWN THE FUCK AWAY by the sheer EPICNESS and about five minutes in I turned to my friend and whispered "Oh my god Machete is TOTALLY Cougar's dad!" She agreed (we bounced up and down going "EEEEEEEEE"- but quietly, cos we were in the theatre) and this monstrosity was born.

#2: Nanuk Dain's adorable photo of Cougar's happy fambly.

#3: The crazy-ass picture I drew to accompany this fic, wich will hopefully be uploaded soon.

Enjoy! And if you have not seen Machete- GO SEE IT NAOW.

~::~

"Coug?"

The warm body next to Jake Jensen shifts, a sign that the sniper is awake and listening. The hacker clears his throat.

"We've known each other for... for six years now."

A nod.

"And we've..." Jensen's voice falters a little as Cougar shifts again, raising himself onto his forearms to look at the blonde as he continues. "We've been..."

"Lovers," the Spaniard supplies in a husky voice.

"God it sounds so much hotter when you say it," the tech sighs as Cougar's fingertips trail up his thigh. "Yeah. Lovers. We've been lovers for two years. Give or take."

"Give or take," the sniper agrees, knowing full well that Jensen has their first kiss, the first time they made love, and the first time they said "I love you" to each other marked on every calendar in every device he owns, down to the hour, minute, and second.

"Yeah." The American coughs again, nervously, and Cougar frowns, wonders where this is going- if _Jensen_ is having trouble talking, it must be something big.

"Jake," he says, bringing a hand up to cup his friend's face, thumb brushing the tip of his nose. He kisses Jensen, soft and slow, bringing his attention back. "What is it?"

"I..." the hacker takes a breath. "Okay. So we've been together for a while now, and I think we're probably more open with each other than we've ever been with anyone, and I feel- I feel like I can ask you this now without getting shot or glared at or shunned."

"Ask _what_, Jake?" Cougar prompts, nuzzling the spot where Jensen's jaw meets his ear.

"Well, I... I wanted to know..." Another deep breath and the intel operative closes his eyes as he lets it out in a rush, "I wanna know what's the story behind The Hat like where'd you get it and who's in the picture you keep inside the brim and don't say 'what picture' cuz I've seen you take it out and look at it when you think I'm asleep and you're thinking about those kids and I can tell it's important so what is it?" He gasps like a fish out of water, eyes still tightly shut. He can feel Cougar breathing against his neck, feel him hesitate.

The mattress creaks a little and suddenly the sniper's warmth is gone as he climbs off the bed.

_Oh god_. Jensen bites his lip, refusing to open his eyes for fear that tears will well up in them. He waits for the door to slam. For the room to get cold. For Cougar to be Gone.

Instead he hears the bed creak again, feels the heat from the smaller man return, close enough to warm his cheeks as that deep, quiet voice commands, "Jake. Open your eyes."

He does.

Cougar is kneeling between the blonde's outstretched legs, one hand propping him up, the other offering a faded photograph. His eyes are shaded by the hat, but he's not angry. Slowly, Jensen takes the picture, squints for a moment, wondering why it's so fuzzy. Cougar rolls his eyes and plucks the hacker's glasses from the nightstand, sliding them onto his nose.

"Oh, right. Thanks." Jensen blinks and looks again.

It's an old photo, and it's clearly been through hell; the corners are worn to rounded nothingness, all the whites have faded to yellow, and there's a brownish bloodstain marring the bottom half. The image is of three people. On the right, a stunningly beautiful Hispanic woman with an eyepatch and a sniper rifle stands with a foot atop a corpse. She glares challengingly into the camera, a knife sticking up out of her boot. The man to her left is huge, probably taller than Jensen, and has muscles like ropes coiled around his limbs. He's also Hispanic, but he's a sharp contrast to the woman; his face is weathered and worn like a mountainside, framed by long, wispy black hair, and every inch of his skin is pitted and scarred and tattooed. He wears an expression of fierce pride. Under one arm, he carries a child, about five years old, pointing a pistol that's way too big for him at the camera, his small face half-hidden by the hat that sinks down over his eyes.

"This is you," it's not even a question, but Jensen's eyebrows raise in surprise. "You and your... your parents?"

"Si."

"Wow." He looks up at Cougar, looks back at the kid. "Wow. I just- wow." He peers closer at the man- Cougar's father. He's got his son in one hand, but the other hand is holding something against his shoulder; something big and bladed and weirdly familiar... "Your dad carried a..."

Recognition. Little green lights and bells go off in Jensen's mind.

"Your dad- HOLY SHIT YOUR DAD IS MACHETE?" It's a good thing he's not drinking anything, because if he was the picture would be soaked.

"Si," the sniper lets a smile play around his lips at his companion's reaction.

"Wha- but he- he's REAL? I thought Machete was just some awesome myth that Mexicans made up to combat Bigfoot! So- so wait, your mom... Oh, no way in HELL!"

Cougar arches an eyebrow.

"Your mom is Shé?"

"Her name was Luz." The smaller man shifts closer, rests his chin on Jensen's chest.

"She was _hot_," the hacker says, because he can't help it. "I guess you got your looks from her."

Cougar snorts and lowers himself fully, wrapping his arms around Jake's waist. "You're incorrigible."

"Seriously, this isn't fair. You have the _coolest_ damn parents _ever_." Jensen flips the picture to read the back: _Machete, Luz and Carlos- El Paso_.

"Had."

"Hmm?" The younger man glances over the top of the photo at his friend. "What'd you say?"

"_Had_," Cougar buries the word in Jensen's chest.

"Had... what? Had-" Jake's eyes widen. "Oh. Oh, _Coug_, I- god, I forgot- I mean, I knew you were an orphan, but I didn't- I'm sor-"

The sniper shakes his head. "It's okay."

"No." Jensen grabs his lover's chin and tilts his head up, looking at him solemnly. "No, Carlos, it's not okay. Losing your parents isn't okay, and me forgetting isn't okay."

"You lost your parents." Cougar says a little defensively, leaning into the touch as Jensen's fingers trail up his cheekbones.

"Yeah, but my parents were sort of assholes. And I was nineteen when they died. How old were you?"

"...Six. They were gunned down in Juarez." He omits the fact that Luz, bleeding from dozens of bullet wounds and missing an arm, had dragged Machete's body, her son following, through three miles of desert to escape from the mercs chasing them, keeping Carlos alive at night with the last of her body heat as she bled out, propped against a jagged blue oak. The following morning, Carlos had left his parents' cold corpses together and walked the remaining five miles to the American military base.

"Shit, Coug, my folks died in a damn car crash. And at least I had Sydney. Did- do you have anyone else?" Jensen's hand travels from Cougar's cheek to the long hair that peeks out from under the hat, fingers tangling in it and combing through, a habit he's picked up because A) it makes him feel better and B) it makes Cougar feel better.

"...I had a half-sister. She died before I was born. There might be others, but I do not know of them. _Mi padre_ had... a reputation." The corner of his mouth lifts in his trademark smirk.

"You totally got your smirk from him," Jensen observes, still running his fingers through Cougar's hair. "So... wow, Coug. This is your family, huh?"

"No."

"Huh?"

The sniper sits back, raises a hand and plucks the hat from his head, reaches inside and pulls something out. It's another photograph, and he holds it out carefully for the hacker to take.

It's a newer photo, the edges only slightly rounded, the whites still mostly white. There's blood on it, like the other one, but it's droplets rather than a big patch. The face of Carlos Alvarez smiles up from it, his arm around six feet of beaming, pink-shirted Jake Jensen, who in turn has his arm around a grinning little girl in a Petunias jersey and a hat that's too big for her.

"_This_ is my family," he says, smiling again.

Jensen wraps his arms around Cougar's shoulders, pulling him in and kissing him. "Yeah. You're absolutely right."

They lay still, Carlos' head against Jake's shoulder, warm and comfortable and safe.

"I still can't believe your parents were Machete and Shé. That's so goddamn badass. It explains so much."

"Go to sleep."

"I mean, do you have any idea how much Laurel-Ann is gonna freak? She reads _comic_ _books_ about your parents. I didn't think it was possible for you to rise higher in her eyes, but damn if you haven't found a way. And that means I'm gonna be twenty points up on the awesome scale by association. I wish they were alive; I wanna meet them. On the other hand, maybe it's good they're not, because I think I'd pass out or wet myself or accidentally shoot myself in the foot or something if I met them."

Cougar silences him by placing a kiss to his lips and dropping the hat onto his head.

It only works for a second or two, because a thought strikes Jensen. "Whoa. For once, I actually wish my parents were alive, cuz, I mean- best family reunion ever? I think so. Your parents could kick my parents asses. Their house would be a crater by the time it ended."


End file.
